


and though I walk through the valley of the shadow

by timeinthetardis



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain Book friendship, Captain Charming friendship, Captain Swan - Freeform, Escape from Underbrooke, F/M, TW: mention of blood, True Love's Kiss, Underworld Reunion, look y'all I know this is over a year late don't judge me, underworld AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeinthetardis/pseuds/timeinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma glances over at Killian, her grip on his hand so tight that it's rapidly becoming painful. “You know that vague outline of a plan I told you about?” He nods. “This is where it gets complicated.”</p><p>He can't help quirking an eyebrow at that. “<i>Gets</i> complicated?”</p><p>---</p><p>5B canon divergence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's been walking for a very long time.

At least, he thinks so. He's not entirely sure. If he thinks too hard about anything- where he is, who he is, how long he's been here- he can't quite seem to keep the ideas from slipping away from him. The more he concentrates, the faster the details fade, and he's back to walking through the never-ending gray and wondering if he really has passed that rock already, or if he's just imagining it. He's not sure why he keeps moving, only knows that he can't seem to stand still, and every time he tries to stop he finds himself walking even faster. The silence is all-consuming, not even broken by his footsteps; once (or maybe more than once) he'd tried to sprint along the path, to make some kind of sound in the gloom.

That's when he'd realized that he didn't seem to be breathing.

(He thinks that maybe he should be more concerned about that, but the idea skitters away from him as soon as it comes into his head.)

He walks, and he walks, and he doesn't know _why_ or _when_ or _where_ ; he walks, and he walks, and somewhere along the way he forgets to keep asking.

He's been walking for a very long time (he thinks, when he bothers to think about it at all).

“Killian!”

And now a woman is running towards him, long blonde hair almost glowing through the darkness. She's wearing a red jacket and she's the brightest, most vibrant thing in this place; she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, honestly, and even if he can't seem to remember much of anything right now, he feels certain of this. Her footsteps echo heavily against the stone floor as she stumbles to a halt in front of him.

“It's you,” she pants, her breath appearing in small puffs in the air in front of him, and he realizes with a start that it's _cold_ here.

He hadn't noticed that before.

Bright green eyes flick from his head to his feet, taking in every inch of him before settling on his face. Her lips tilt down at the corners as she looks at him, lines appearing on her forehead, and that's devastating, somehow. “You don't remember me, do you?”

“Believe me, love, I think I'd remember meeting you,” he says, and where had that even come from? His voice sounds odd to his own ears, rusty with disuse and overloud, and he shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. The woman's shoulders slump slightly.

“What about this?” she asks, pulling a chain from under the neck of her jacket and holding out the ring that dangles from it. It's heavy silver band, a man's ring, he'd guess, although he's not sure _why_ he'd guess that. “Look familiar at all?”

And he _wants_ to say yes, he really does, and he doesn't know why he wants to agree with this stranger, to see what her smile looks like, for her to be pleased with him, but he _does_ , and now he has to disappoint her. “No,” he says slowly, eyes tracing the pattern on the ring, and she lets it fall back against her chest.

“Perfect,” she mutters, shifting her weight back on her heels. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she runs her hands through her hair, starting to pace back and forth in front of him. “Great. And it doesn't work on memory stuff, right, because that's what you tried in New York, and _that_ was a disaster,” and he feels a jolt somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks, but she ignores him, continuing to pace.

“But we have to go together for this to work, we both have to leave, or else-” She pauses, gaze snapping back to his face. “Wait. What did you say?”

“Do you know who I am?” he repeats. The woman stares at him, jaw clenched, and he can see the muscles of her cheek jump as she grinds her teeth together.

“You don't even know who you are,” she says finally, and he shakes his head. “Even better. Gold wasn't kidding about this being a challenge.”

“Gold?” he hisses, feeling a pulse of rage at the name before it fades back into nothingness. He frowns, because again- where had that come from?

“What the actual hell,” the woman mutters. “You can remember your sworn enemy, but not your girlfriend?”

“My what, love?”

“Never mind.” She eyes him speculatively, crossing her arms. “Let's try that again. Does 'Emma Swan' ring any bells in there?”

“Emma Swan,” he repeats, rolling the name around in his mouth. He doesn't miss the way she's staring at him, how she catches her breath when he speaks the name (her name?), how he can almost feel the waves of longing rolling off of her as if they were a physical force. Just looking at her makes his chest ache, he hasn't felt anything like that since-

-watching her vanish into a swirling cloud of darkness; finding her in the forest with a heart in her hand and terror in her eyes; telling her he loved her, past tense, while she breaks in front of him, and hoping like hell that he'll be able to use the present tense sooner rather than later; hearing her screams as he was pulled away from her, down, down, _down_.

“It's you,” he says, and he knows he's echoing what she'd said before, but Emma Swan is standing in front of him, glowing like the sun in the middle of endless gray, and he's torn between _how are you here_ and _you're here_ and _I knew it wouldn't be goodbye_ and _thank gods it wasn't goodbye_. “I knew you'd-” but it's already slipping away, he can feel something leaving him but he's not sure what it is now, and what had he been saying?

“Killian?” the woman says, sounding miles away (and that's not right, because she's right there, he can almost feel her breath on his skin but he can't seem to hold her in his line of vision between blinks), and he looks up at her slowly.

“Pardon?”

“ _Damn_ it,” she snaps, gritting the words out between clenched teeth, “this is _unbelievable_.” She spins on her heel, stomping away from him and muttering incomprehensibly under her breath. Her hands are in her hair again, fingers tugging at the strands as she walks, pacing back and forth but never straying more than a few feet from where he's standing.

Where he's... standing.

Not walking.

The fog in his head lifts slightly, just enough to focus on the woman in front of him (again, he thinks, focus on her _again_ ) and he has the vaguest sense of deja vu, because- what had he been saying, before?

“Who are you?” he asks as she turns towards him, and her face crumples slightly. “To me. Who are you to me, lass?”

She hesitates, letting her hands fall away from her head, and she smiles (but it's wrong, this smile; it makes him want to reach out and smooth away the lines on her forehead with his fingertips, to cup her cheek in his palm until her eyes don't look so achingly lonely). “Someone special. You and I, we are- were- _are_ close.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, the words springing out of his mouth before he can process them. “I can't seem to remember anything, these days.”

“Right. Right.” She nods, almost to herself, and hooks her thumbs through her belt loops. Rolling her eyes to where the ceiling should be (the arched walls on either side of them vanish into a haze of mist above them, and it's somehow claustrophobic and awe-inspiring, and he's really not sure if it feels like a cave or a cathedral), she tilts her head to stare straight up. “Is this some sort of karmic justice trying to kick my ass? Because you know, out of all of the amnesia we've experienced recently, I was only responsible for _one time_.” She kicks the nearest wall. “And I gave all of the memories back!”

He can't help chuckling at that, though it feels strange in his throat. The woman whirls to look at him, letting go of her belt loops and bringing her hand to the ring on the chain around her neck. Tilting her head, she narrows her eyes at him, and her mouth thins into a determined line.

“Right,” she says again, sucking in a deep breath. “It's probably worth a try, right?” He doesn't respond, but she doesn't seem to expect him to; she takes another deep breath, brushing her hair out of her face, and starts towards him. He stumbles backwards slightly but she continues, easily covering the few steps between them. She grabs the lapels of his coat, yanking him towards her, and presses her lips to his.

For a moment, nothing happens, other than a wild wobble for balance as he catches her against his chest.

Then he's _burning_ , her touch scorching through his jacket, heat spreading along his body from every point of contact between them, and he's gasping for breath, air stabbing at his lungs, and he knows, _he knows_ -

“Emma,” he breathes, and she smiles against his lips, tightening her grip on him. He pulls her even closer, winding his arms around her and inhaling her familiar scent.

She's _here_ , and he thinks he might be drowning.

(But it would be bad form, he's pretty sure, to die when he's already in the Underworld; it would be especially bad form in front of Emma Swan, when she's already had to watch him die. Twice.)

“Told you I'd find you,” she says, and his eyes snap open. Shifting a step back, he meets her gaze, horrified.

“But we're in-”

“-the Underworld, right,” she finishes, raising an eyebrow at him. “Thought we had that pretty well covered.”

His stomach clenches. “Emma, love, tell me you didn't do anything-”

Emma cuts him off with a shake of her head, lifting his hand and pressing it to her chest. “See? Still up and running,” she says, the thud of her heartbeat steady against his palm, and he thinks about letting his knees buckle with relief but pulls her close for another kiss instead. She melts into him, tilting her forehead to meet his and peering up at him through her eyelashes. “Not that I don't appreciate making up for lost time- and believe me, I'm planning for us to _thoroughly_ make up for it- but we've got a schedule to keep.”

“A schedule?”

“More like the vague outline of a plan, I guess, but I think-” Emma pauses, glancing down at a thick band on her wrist, and she winces. “Yeah, we're running behind, we've got to go.”

“Clocks work in the Underworld?” he asks, amused, as she takes his hand and begins leading the way down the path.

“Not a clock like you're thinking, no,” she says, holding up her wrist to show him the symbols weaving across the face of something that, if not watch-shaped, looks somewhat watch-adjacent. “Luckily Belle knew what to look for, she found something in the library from Rumpelstiltskin's old castle. Had to track it down though, and then it took ages to barter for it.”

 _Ages._ He looks her up and down more carefully as they stop for a moment, Emma pulling out a compass and holding it flat in her free palm. She looks much like she had the last time he saw her (her parents holding her back as she struggled to reach him, her hair and skin and eyes returned to their usual blaze of color rather than the icy blankness she'd been sporting for far too long as the Dark One), but harder, thinner. The delicate bones of her face appear more prominent, and her hand feels unsettlingly small in his, and with their differing lifespans they've always had a different idea of what _ages_ means, but- “How long have I been here, love?”

“Too long.” She squeezes his hand. “This way. We're going to have to run for it, I think, I doubt Regina can keep them occupied much longer-”

“Regina? She's here?”

“Everyone's here. Well, not Gold, obviously, but my parents, Robin, Regina, Belle- even Merlin was tagging along for a while, but he had to go back to Camelot-” He stops in his tracks, trying to process this- that they came for him, just like they'd all gone after Emma- and she tugs him along with her, not breaking stride. “I'll tell you everything, I promise, but first we've got to get out of here.”

“Right you are,” he says, matching her pace as they hurry onward. The heavy fog begins to lift as they walk, light slowly piercing the gloom, and he could almost swear that the faint smell of the sea is drifting towards them, growing stronger and stronger.

“And left here-” Emma says, eyes trained on the compass in her hand, “-and...here we are.” She slides the compass back into her pocket, picking up speed. “All we have to do is cross the bridge, and then we're home fr-”

“Emma, Emma, Emma.” A voice curls around them, quiet and cultured, and Emma jerks to a halt. “You disappoint me, my dear.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Emma hisses. She glances over at Killian, her grip on his hand so tight that it's rapidly becoming painful. “You know that vague outline of a plan I told you about?” He nods. “This is where it gets complicated.”

He can't help quirking an eyebrow at that. " _Gets_ complicated?”

She flashes him a smile, but before she can respond, a man appears a few feet away from them in a burst of flame. Shoving Killian behind her, Emma raises her hands defensively. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” the man says, coming to a halt in front of them, “but I don't think either of us is in the habit of asking obvious questions. When your _charming_ family started getting a bit, ooh, fidgety, let's say, I started to wonder what sort of herb gathering could make you so very late for our appointment.”

“Not much grows around here, buddy,” Emma mutters, but the man ignores her.

“And when my darling wife finally gets away from her mother and comes to meet with us, who does she find waiting at the bridge with three unconscious Reapers, but your little friend Regina?” He laughs, high and cold, and a chill races down Killian's spine as Emma stiffens. “She seemed rather reluctant to leave, but you know my wife- she's very persuasive.”

“She's something, all right.” She steps closer to Killian, her back pressed to his front. “And I'm guessing that once she _persuaded_ Regina to leave, she told you to come see what you could find?”

“Precisely.” His eyes glitter eerily in the dim light. “Now, why don't you hand over my property, and you can be on your way?”

“He isn't yours to keep. We've paid your price, now you have to let him go,” Emma says, and Killian's heart drops.

“Emma, what've you-” Killian begins, but the man cuts him off.

“I don't _have_ to do anything, Emma,” he snaps. “You forget that down here, it doesn't matter who you are. Savior, princess, hero, villain- none of it matters, not after you cross the bridge.”

She lifts her chin defiantly. “You can't touch me.”

“No, but I can touch him. And you don't want that, do you?”

“If you lay a finger on him, you'll regret it for all eternity,” she snarls. Killian can't see her face, but he can almost picture her expression. She's _seething_ , angry in a way that he's only witnessed a few times, and the air around them crackles with magic. The man's eyes widen, eyebrows nearly vanishing into his hair, which- Killian blinks a few times, just to be certain- now seems to be _on fire_.

“Is that a threat, my dear?”

“It's a _promise_ ,” Emma hisses. “Get out of our way.”

“I was hoping you'd say something like that,” the man drawls, a cruel smile curling across his face. Emma laughs, but it's nothing Killian has ever heard before; he can almost taste gunpowder on his lips, can feel the hot anger pouring off of her. “As you wish, Emma.”

He vanishes.

Emma whirls to face Killian, kissing him with more teeth than finesse. “Killian, listen to me. We're going to have to run. Whatever happens- whatever you hear- don't stop, and don't look back.”

“You're out of your bloody mind if you think I'm going to leave you down here for one _instant_ ,” Killian snaps, and she shakes her head frantically.

“I'll be fine, it's all going to be fine, but you have to get out of here, okay?” Her hands cup either side of his face, eyes blazing. “Promise me. Once we get over there, you can't stop, and you can't turn around until I tell you.”

“Emma-”

“You have to trust me,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to his, and he can feel her shaking as she inhales sharply. “I can't explain it all to you yet, he'll be back any second, he just likes to play with his food, but- Killian, I promise, if you just trust me, everything will be fine.”

“I'm not going to-”

“You trusted me, once,” she says. “Before the Darkness, before- all of this. You trusted me.” She blinks, and tears catch in her eyelashes. “I know that it's a lot to ask, after everything, but please, you have to trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, Emma,” he whispers, and she chokes on a laugh.

“Then promise me.”

“I'll do as you say,” he says finally, and she presses another kiss to his lips.

“Good. Now follow my lead, and when I say run- _run_.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Good. Now follow my lead, and when I say run- _run_.”

“Lead on, Swan,” he says, gesturing grandly to the path ahead with his hook. Emma smirks up at him, the tight lines of worry around her eyes easing somewhat as he winks at her. “Let's go _home_.”

They take off together, hand in hand, just as a fireball whizzes past Killian's head. Glancing over her shoulder, Emma lets loose a stream of expletives that even Killian would find excessive, were they anywhere except the Underworld, and begins to run even faster.

“Almost- there- keep- going-” Emma gasps, her grip on his hand tightening as they skid around a corner. “You'll be able to see it- _there_.”

“That's- the bridge?” he pants. “You're- bloody- joking.”

It's an intimidating structure, an enormous slab of dark rock arcing high into the fog. The river below emits a faint greenish glow as it oozes past, the moans and screams of the damned echoing dully against the stone. Killian's fairly confident, looking at it, that he could sail a ship five times the size of the _Jolly Roger_ beneath it with ease; crossing it, with what sounds like an army of lost souls hot on their heels, seems a rather more difficult prospect.

“Shut up and _run_ ,” Emma shoots back.

Something explodes behind them, sending chunks of rock flying, and Killian smells smoke.

“This is the part where you go ahead,” she pants, not slowing her pace. “No matter what you hear, just keep running. Don't turn around, don't stop, and don't let anything touch you.”

“Emma-”

“Regina should be waiting on the other side of the bridge, if Hades hasn't done anything to them,” she continues. “She'll take you to Underbrooke. I'll catch up with you there.” Another explosion splits the air behind them, smoke billowing towards them in a dark column. “You have to go,” Emma calls over the noise, coming to a halt. “Killian, _go_.”

“Love, I'm not leaving you here on your own,” he says, stopping beside her, and she groans.

“Seriously, we don't have time to do this again,” she snaps. “You're going, I'm covering you, end of story. I can handle the Human Torch and his minions, you can't even look over your shoulder. Which one of us is better equipped for this situation?”

The walls shake ominously, a furious roar echoing towards them.

“You have to go,” Emma says again, shoving him towards the bridge. He loops his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and kisses her.

“I love you,” he breathes against her lips, tangling his fingers in her hair for a brief moment.

“I love you,” she says. She looks up at him, managing a tiny smile before she takes a step away, turning to face the path behind them. “Now _go_.”

Gritting his teeth, he obeys, directing his focus to the enormous structure in front of him. He picks up speed again, ignoring the loud clash of magic somewhere over his shoulder. She told him to run- she has a _plan_ -

Emma screams.

He freezes, unaware of doing so, his heart hammering in his chest. If something's happened, if she needs him-

“Killian, run!” she calls, her voice echoing strangely, and his heart slams back into a normal rhythm.

He starts again, racing towards the bridge, the shrieks and sighs of the river drowning out the sound of the battle raging behind him. His boots hit the first step and everything slows down; he's still running as fast as his legs can move, but the world seems to flicker strangely around him. The walls of the cave are fading, replaced by an iron-gray sky, and he could almost swear that he can see rooftops ahead, swimming through a thick fog.

Killian takes the last few steps of the bridge in a single, huge leap, sending a puff of dust into the air. The silence hangs heavily around him, nearly forcing the breath from his lungs with its weight against his skin.

“Well, if it isn't the One-Hand Wonder. Or should I call you Captain Corpse? ” a familiar voice drawls, breaking his concentration. Regina smirks at him from her perch on a half-broken park bench, getting to her feet as he approaches. “I thought we might've managed to get rid of you for good.”

“Aye, and I'd thought that after our last encounter, I'd never have to suffer through another one of your bon mots again,” he retorts. “And yet, here we stand.”

“Pity.” Her lips curl into a real smile, the relieved one she'd worn in Camelot when they'd talked Emma down from killing Merida, the one that had convinced him to allow her to watch over the dagger rather than attempt to talk Emma out of her decision.

(And though under pain of death- or, he supposes, the tortures of the Damned- he would never admit the words aloud, he feels a surge of relief at the sight of her face. As real as Emma had seemed, warm in his arms and wearing his ring, seeing Regina serves as proof that he hasn't imagined all this; while he can very well picture the Underworld tormenting and tricking him with visions of Emma, he doubts they'd bring Regina into the mix.)

“Where's Emma?” Regina asks, glancing past him. Sweeping her hair out of her eyes, she conjures a small fireball, squinting through the gloom at the bridge behind him. “I can't imagine she sent you roam the Underworld alone, not after all she's done to get back to you.”

“She sent me ahead while she dealt with Hades,” he says, struggling to tamp down on his frustration. “He was catching up to us, and she insisted.”

“You've got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” Regina hisses between her teeth, and it would be startling (he doesn't think he's ever heard her curse, not even when Robin had nearly died in Camelot) but he's too preoccupied by the thought of Emma putting herself in danger to actually care. “I was supposed to meet you after I cleared the way off the bridge, but-”

“His wife?” Killian interrupts. “Emma mentioned something about her being-”

“Very persuasive, yes,” Regina cuts back in. Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, she groans under her breath. “You have no idea.” She pauses for a long moment, staring at the structure behind him, before she turns to lead the way away from the bridge. “Come on, I'll take you to the others, then I'll come back for her.”

“I'm not going anywhere until we have Emma with us,” he retorts.

“None of us are,” says another familiar voice. David appears out of the fog behind Regina, followed by Snow, Belle, and Robin. With a half-smile, he steps forward, extending his hand. “Killian. It's good to see you again, _mate_.”

Killian can't help a small chuckle, taking the other man's hand and allowing himself to be tugged into a brief hug. “Likewise, _Dave_.”

“You're all supposed to be waiting at the house,” Regina snaps, reaching instinctively for Robin as he comes closer. “This isn't the plan.”

“The plan also didn't include your mother showing up and ruining the timetable,” Snow fires back, and Killian snorts because of course, _of course_ Cora's still out for their blood, even after her own death. “When Hades left to see what was happening, we couldn't just wait around.”

“What's the point of having a plan if nobody's going to follow it?” Regina says.  

“Enough of this. We have to go back for Emma,” Killian says. The words have barely left his mouth when Regina's hands land on either side of his face. He reels backwards and she follows, maintaining her iron grip on his head. Even Robin, who generally reacts to Regina's antics with what Killian considers an enviable amount of detachment, raises his eyebrows in alarm; this, even more than the power her can feel pulsing in Regina's palms, makes Killian come to a standstill.

“Don't even think about it,” Regina hisses. “If I see you so much as roll your eyes too far back in that thick skull of yours, I will knock you out so fast you'll travel through time.”

“Regina-” Robin begins, but she ignores him.

“I know Emma told you the rule, even if she didn't tell you anything else. No. Turning. Back.”

“I didn't think you cared, Your Majesty,” Killian mutters through gritted teeth, using every shred of his (admittedly battered) self-control to keep himself from knocking her out of the way and taking off towards where he'd left Emma.

(Gods. He'd _left_ her.)

Regina rolls her eyes, a humorless laugh spilling from her lips. “We've been looking for you for ages, pirate. Do you really think I'm going to let all that time go down the drain just because you're feeling a bit fidgety?”

 _Ages._ That word again.

He takes another look at Regina, at the deep circles under her eyes and the new hollows in her cheeks. Glancing past her, he realizes that the rest of the group looks similarly worse for the wear, all with minor wounds and puffy eyes. Belle's got a nasty cut across her cheek, slicing up from chin to temple in a dark streak, and David's sporting a half-healed black eye. The soft blue coat Snow wears hangs off her thin frame ludicrously, a rust-colored stain on the collar sitting just below a section of hair that's been shaved down to the skin to show a line of neat black stitches. A makeshift splint covers Regina's left wrist, and Robin has what looks like the remains of a broken nose, hastily repaired by magic.

A hot swoop of guilt burns his insides. He'd never expected- never even _considered-_ that they'd come after him, that they'd risk their lives like this for him. When he'd realized what he needed to do, when he'd paid the price to get rid of the Darkness once and for all (or, at least, _tried_ to- and when he gets his hands on the Crocodile again, he’s going to make him pay), he'd resigned himself to never seeing _Emma_ again, let alone the odd assortment of people who make up her family.

“She's right, Killian,” Belle pipes up, interrupting his train of thought. “If you try to turn around and go back, and Hades comes for you, there won't be anything we can do.”

“Then you'll really be trapped here, and I have a funny feeling that this place will be a walk in the park compared to what Emma will be like, moping around Storybrooke again,” Regina says. “You should've seen her after you died, it was-”

“That's enough, Regina,” David cuts her off, and she closes her mouth, releasing Killian's head to raise her hands in surrender. “What happened in Storybrooke doesn't matter right now. What _does_ matter is that we've got to find Emma and get back to the ferry as soon as possible.”

“I think we should take Killian to the house,” Snow chimes in. “He can stay there with Belle and-”

“I’m not going anywhere without Emma,” Killian insists, and Regina groans.

“Killian, please,” Snow says, taking his hand between both of hers. Her eyes look slightly hazy with exhaustion, and they’re the same shade of green as Emma’s, and _gods_ , but that hits him hard. “I know you want to wait for her here, but it’s too risky. It’ll be safer to keep you out of sight until Emma’s back.” He opens his mouth to interrupt her, but she squeezes his hand, her lips thinning in a hard line. “You have to trust that we love her just as much as you do, and that we’re going to fight just as hard to help her.” She tilts her head, studying his face. “You aren’t the only one willing to die for her, you know.”

He nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Aye, I do know that.”

“Good.” Snow smiles, releasing his hand and turning back to the group. “I think we should split up. Belle and Robin can take Killian to the house. The rest of us will go back across the bridge to find Emma.”

“Snow,” David begins, but she narrows her eyes at him.

“No,” she says, tone ringing with finality, and Killian wonders what it would’ve been like, had she been given the opportunity to rule as she should have. “I’m going after her.”

“Fantastic. Now that we’ve spent all this time chatting, can we actually get down to business?” Regina says, knotting her scarf around her neck. “Not that I don’t think Emma can handle herself, but-”

“Good luck, my love,” Robin interrupts, pressing a kiss to her lips as he begins to lead the way into town.

“Go on, Killian,” David says. “We’ll be back with her in no time.”

Nodding to his friend, Killian follows Robin and Belle, fighting every instinct telling him to turn around and race back across the bridge.

“There shouldn’t be too many Reapers wandering around right now,” Belle says, slowing her pace to walk beside him. “Most of them went off with Cora, after she alerted Hades, but you can never be too careful. And you can’t trust the Lost not to summon them- some of them are so paranoid.”

“The Lost?”

“Right, sorry, you’ve been in the tunnels. Most of the people here are the Lost- they’re dead but they can’t move on. This isn’t exactly Hell, more like a sort of limbo, but some of the Lost have been here for ages.” She rests a hand on the hilt of the dagger at her waist, squinting into the fog ahead of them. “The Reapers work for Hades. They’re a nasty bunch, but easy enough to fight.”

“So the place where I was- not everyone goes there.”

“No, they don’t,” she says, looking over at him thoughtfully. “It’s pretty rare, from what I’ve been able to find out since we’ve been here.”

“I have much to atone for,” he says softly. Belle steps closer to him, looping her arm through his.

“I think it may have been the circumstances of your death, actually,” she says. “You made quite a sacrifice, Killian.”

“After hundreds of years of evil deeds, and after nearly destroying Storybrooke,” he points out.

“It was heroic all the same,” she says. “But you tried to channel the Darkness, to get rid of it- and Rumple got in the way. I think that _Hades_ wasn’t even sure what to do with you.” Belle squeezes his arm. “No matter what- I’m glad we got you back, Killian.”

The clock tower looms out of the fog in front of them, imposing even in its destroyed state. Killian sees the shell of Emma’s car sitting on the street corner, the yellow paint streaked with scorch marks. The town looks bleak and cold- nothing like the quaint place he’s grown to see as his home.

“Gods,” he mutters, as Robin circles back around to walk with them.

“Nobody’s out here,” Robin says, holding his bow at the ready. “It’s still as a tomb.”

“Fitting,” Killian says, and the other man smirks.

“Belle, what time have you got?” Robin asks. Belle glances down at her wrist, pulling back the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a watch similar to Emma’s.

“Looks like we’ve got plenty of it,” she says, frowning down at the stone face. “Charon’s not back yet, and the path will be open for a while.”

“Excellent.” Robin jogs ahead of them again, leading the way down a side street.

“What exactly is that?” Killian asks, nodding down at the watch.

“It’s a sort of reference clock,” Belle says. “Time doesn’t work the same way down here, so it’s difficult to keep track of things. This- and the one Emma has- keeps us on schedule so that we don’t miss our exit window.”

“Exit window?” he echoes.

She nods, shivering slightly as a breeze whisks down the street. “Getting in and out of the Underworld is a bit complicated. We had to leave the passage open for as long as Charon- he’s the ferryman- would let us. If it closes, it’ll be difficult to re-open.”

“And we’ll be trapped here,” he finishes.

“Not permanently. Well, probably not, at least.”

They turn down another street, and Killian feels a bolt of dread. “We’re going to my- to Emma’s home.”

“It’s the safest place down here,” she says. “Unoccupied, easy to defend. We’ve been using it as our base since we found it.”

Robin takes the stairs to the porch two at a time, dodging a hole in the planks easily, and vanishes inside. Killian and Belle follow him, Killian unable to restrain a wince at the sight of the house. It’s not just that it reminds him of how neatly his plans were destroyed- or how his heart was broken here, when Emma’s deceit was revealed- or how it hurt, to remember the cruel ways he’d taunted her when he’d embraced the Darkness. He’d wanted to build a _home_ here, and even if it isn’t actually the same house, seeing it in tatters- with broken windows and faded paint- feels like he’s failed, somehow.

He wonders if Emma will still want to live in the house in Storybrooke.

The door creaks heavily on its hinges as Belle closes it behind them, locking it with a thick bolt. “Now we wait,” she says, leading the way to the living room and settling on the couch.

“Wonderful,” Killian mutters under his breath. He begins to pace in front of her, back and forth on the worn carpet, and Robin sighs heavily as he sits down in a battered armchair.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “And if anyone can beat Hades, it’s Emma. She’s already taken him on a few times. She’ll be fine.”

“And if she isn’t?” Killian snaps. The walk through the fog had distracted him somewhat, with Belle’s conversation and the sight of the ruined town, but being trapped between four walls (and with nothing to do but _wait_ ) makes him feel worse than useless. Robin sighs again, letting his eyes drift shut.

“She will be,” Belle says, meeting his gaze calmly. “Have a little faith, Killian.”

“I have plenty of that.” He pauses in his pacing for a moment. “Why does the Underworld look like Storybrooke?”

She shrugs. “We’re not entirely sure, but my theory is that this realm reshapes itself based on who is down here, as a defense mechanism.” Toying with the band of her watch, she tucks her legs up underneath her. “It certainly threw us off when we arrived.”

“And when was that, exactly?” Dust puffs up around his feet as he resumes his pacing.

“How long would you say, Robin?” Belle asks. Robin shrugs, not opening his eyes. “We didn’t get the watches until after we’d been here for- well, I want to say a few weeks, but it could’ve only been a few hours.”

“Why couldn’t I stay with Emma?” he asks brusquely. His question is met with silence, and he turns to see Belle and Robin exchanging a significant look. “What is it?”

“To be honest, we don’t know,” Belle says at last. “Emma went off on her own after we got here- don’t look at us like that, it’s not like we _let_ her, she snuck away while we were sleeping- and when she came back, she…” She trails off, glancing over at Robin.

“She what?” Killian snaps, staring from one to the other.

“She knew things,” Robin finishes. “How to find you, how to distract the Reapers, how to get home safely.” He shakes his head, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket. “Everything. She came back with an entire plan, and she made us swear that if she got you out of the tunnels, we wouldn’t let you turn back. She said if you turned around, the Underworld itself would take you, and it would be even harder for her to find you again.” Shrugging, he lets his eyes drift closed again. “I realize I have no room to talk, but that woman of yours can be terrifying.”

“Always told her she’d be a hell of a pirate,” Killian says under his breath.

“She found the way here herself, you know,” Belle says. “I mean, I helped with some of the research, but she actually _did_ everything.” She smiles up at Killian. “Just wait until she tells you the whole story. She’s been incredible.”

“She’s always incredible,” Killian says. “She’s-”

All three of them jump as someone knocks on the door, a rhythmic series of taps that sends Belle flying to her feet. “Stay here,” she hisses at the two men, shooting them a formidable glare before vanishing into the foyer.

“Killian? Belle? Robin?” Snow’s voice carries easily through the silence of the street outside.

“We’re here, Snow,” Belle calls back, and Killian hears the door swing open. Several pairs of feet clatter inside before the door slams shut again, a flurry of hushed voices spilling into the living room.

“...the bed,” he hears Regina say, followed by more heated whispers.

“...stairs...too far. We’ll use the couch,” David says, his words becoming clearer as the group enters the room.

They look, for the most part, only slightly worse than they had when the group had split up. One arm of Regina’s coat is singed, the cuff in tatters, and she’s glaring down at the burn as if it has personally offended her. Snow and David both look like they’ve crawled through a chimney, ashes clinging to their faces and hair, but otherwise appear unharmed.

It’s Emma who draws Killian’s focus, held up between her parents and swaying on the spot. Her arms hang loosely around their shoulders, her head drooping slightly, her eyes half-closed and unfocused.  She has ashes in her hair and a gaping rip across the front of her leather jacket, and the faint wheeze of her shallow breathing sounds, to his ears, like broken ribs. Her parents help her to the couch, easing her down onto the cushions, and Killian finds himself on his knees at her side, wrapping his hand around hers.

“What happened?” Robin asks quietly behind him.

“She almost had it under control, but-” Snow says, her voice fading as she settles on the arm of the couch.

“He had more than just Reapers back there,” Regina says grimly. “I don’t know what that _thing_ was, but it was big. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Killian hears her moving across the room, the old armchair protesting as she drops into it.

“Was she already hurt when you found her?” The armchair squeals again as Robin sits down.

“No,” says David, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and pride. “If Hades hadn’t managed to get in that hit when we arrived, I think Emma might have managed to finish off that monster by herself.”

“And the rest of you are all right?” Belle asks. “Regina, do you need anything for that burn on your arm?”

Emma’s eyes flutter open, slowly focusing on Killian’s face, and she manages a small smile. “Hey there, sailor.”

“Emma,” he breathes, and her smile widens. She tries to sit up, wincing as she presses one hand to her injured ribs.

“Take it easy,” says David, hovering over her behind the couch. “Hades got you pretty good, kiddo.”

“I can’t take it easy,” she says, struggling to catch her breath. Killian stays where he is, kneeling in front of her, and she squeezes his hand. “We have to get out of here.”

“You can’t go anywhere like this,” Snow argues. “Hades just hit you with a boulder and you can barely keep your eyes open. We’re staying until you’ve had some rest.”

“We don’t have _time_ for me to rest, Hades could show up here any second.” Emma manages to lever herself up into a sitting position, a stream of profanity leaking out between her gritted teeth, and her gaze lands on Regina. “Do you still have that potion?”

“I don’t think-” Regina begins, but Belle cuts her off.

“I have something better.” Pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket, she shakes it gently, squinting at the contents.

“What is this, exactly?” Emma asks, fingers closing around the bottle as Belle offers it to her.

“This and that, but mostly phoenix tears,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her. “Should fix you right up.”

“Where did _you_ get phoenix tears?” Regina sounds almost impressed, and Belle laughs.

“After we got back from Camelot, I raided Rumple’s cabinet. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.”

“Well, it’s raining now,” Emma mutters, tugging Killian up to sit beside her. She tips the bottle toward him with a wink. “Cheers.” Bringing the potion to her lips, she tosses it back in one swallow. Instantly, a halo of light settles over her, spreading across her skin in a blaze of gold, before fading to a faint shimmer.

“There you are, love,” he says softly, watching as the tension in her face eases with each breath. The tight knot in his chest loosens just a bit.

“The glow will disappear in a few minutes,” Belle says. “How do you feel?”

“Like the Lord of the Underworld didn’t just try to take me out with a boulder.” Emma rolls her shoulders, stretching her arms and shaking out her hands. “Thanks, Belle.”

“Did you have that the whole time?” Robin asks, sounding slightly irritated.

Belle gives him a stern look. “We had other potions and amulets to use for everything else, and I only had one bottle of that. It’s for times of dire need.” Tapping the face of her watch, she raises her eyebrows at him. “I would say this more than qualifies.”

“Enough arguing about the deus ex magica, guys. We have to go,” Emma says, getting to her feet. Turning, she offers her hand to Killian, who takes it as he stands up next to her. “Charon isn’t going to wait forever, and the sooner we get out of Hades’ control, the better.”

“There aren’t many Reapers out,” Robin offers. “I did a sweep of Main Street when we were on our way here, and I didn’t see any Lost wandering around, either.”

Snow moves off the couch, pulling aside the ragged curtains over one of the windows and peering out into the street. “The coast looks clear around the house, too. We should get moving.”

“Robin and I will take the lead,” says Regina, climbing out of the armchair and helping Robin up behind her. “This house is giving me the creeps. Let’s go.”

Emma rolls her eyes, meeting Killian’s gaze with a smirk, but follows Regina and Robin outside without comment, her hand still tucked into his. Belle takes up a position on Killian’s other side, dagger at the ready, and Snow and David bring up the rear. They begin to walk quietly down the street, weaving between the rusty corpses of old cars as they move.

“Heads up,” Robin calls back, flinging out an arm to stop them as they pass by the shattered clock tower in front of the library. “Looks like someone found their way back to town.”

Killian catches sight of the threat almost instantly, gaze settling on a man standing motionless in the middle of the street. He’s tall, dark hair hanging in lank curls around his face, dressed in filthy tunic embroidered with a coat of arms that Killian remembers from Camelot. Staring blankly into space, he looked like little more than a poorly-placed statue.

“One of the Lost?” he says quietly, and Emma nods.

“Looks like he’s alone, though.” Glancing down at the watch on her wrist, she bites her lip. “What do you think, Belle?”

“Fighting will only attract Reapers,” Belle points out. “If we move quickly, we can get past him and to the ferry before he can summon anyone else.”

“Good point. Regina?” Emma says, and the other woman nods.

All of them move at once, picking up the pace slightly as they pass by the man and continue down the street. The eerie silence bears down on them, and Killian has the distinct feeling of being watched, but nothing else moves.

“He’s not following us,” Emma says softly, glancing behind them to check. “That’s good.”

The remainder of their journey proves uneventful, the quiet of the town giving way to the cries and moans of the river as they arrive at the shore. Killian eyes the tiny ferry distrustfully, watching as it bobs placidly in a stream of screaming souls, and finds himself thinking- perhaps for the first time in his life- that he’d prefer to stay on dry land.

“Okay.” Emma frowns, shifting closer to Killian as she surveys their group. “Do all of you still have the tokens I gave you?” The group nods, each of them reaching into their pockets or around their necks to reveal tiny bronze discs. “Good. Give those to Charon when you board, and once the boat leaves, don’t-”

“Look back,” the others chorus.

“Exactly.” She glances up at Killian, toying with Liam’s ring with her free hand. “We’re taking a different way out.”

“Good luck, both of you.” Regina makes a stunted half-movement towards them, arms almost opening, but instead offers them both a regal nod. “I’d hate to have to come back here for round two.”

Robin claps Killian hard on the shoulder. “Best of luck, mate. We’ll see you back in Storybrooke.”

“Don’t forget the rules, Emma,” Belle says, embracing her gently. Turning to Killian, she smiles, pushing up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “And you. You still owe me three books for the library and a round of lessons with that spare pistol.”

“Aye,” he agrees. “Remind me never to play darts against you again.”

“As soon as you’re safely home, I will.” Belle gives both of them a small smile. “Be careful.”

She joins Regina and Robin as they ease down into the boat, nearly vanishing as a gust of wind sends a cloud of mist over the riverbank.

Emma releases his hand as her father gathers her up in his arms, murmuring something Killian can’t quite make out. He takes a small step away to give them a moment of privacy, nearly bumping into Snow as she appears at his side.

“Be safe,” Snow says, pulling Killian into a tight hug, and he flounders a bit before returning it. “Don’t make her- make _us_ lose you again.”

“I don’t intend to,” he says solemnly.

“Good.” She steps back, eyes bright with tears as she surveys him. “We’ll be waiting for you with Henry at Granny’s once you arrive. Make sure you both make it back in one piece.” She’s gone before he can respond, reaching out to cup Emma’s face between her hands, and David shifts over to stand by him.

“Does this finally make us even for the alternate universe?” David asks, and Killian snorts. “You know, one death, one resurrection, seems pretty fair to me.”

“I’d say we’re more than even, mate,” Killian says. “Thank you.”

“I won’t tell you to be careful, because I know that if anything puts Emma at risk, all of your promises will go right out the window.” David grins, though the tension around his eyes doesn’t fade. “But Storybrooke wasn’t the same without you- not for Emma, and not for any of the rest of us, either. So do your best not to get too damaged on your way back, all right?”

“Aye,” Killian says, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

David nods once, extending a hand to Killian and yanking him in for a hug. This time, Killian’s ready for it (he thinks that he’s starting to get a handle on the Charming family method of attack-hugs), slapping the other man’s back forcefully.

“Time to go,” Emma says softly as they separate. Snow adjusts her grip on her bow, moving to David’s side, and they both look at Emma for a long moment. “We’ll see you both soon, okay?”

“We always find each other,” David agrees. “Granny’s. Don’t be late.”

They step into the ferry, passing off their bronze tokens, and settle in their seats. An loud chime wells up from somewhere under the river, the echo reverberating all the way down to Killian’s bones. Within moments, the boat glides smoothly away from the shore, a ribbon of light snaking across the surface of the water to guide their way.

“Okay,” Emma says, tearing her gaze away from the ferry to look up at him. “You know how I said earlier that things were going to get complicated?”

“Aye, right before you went to battle with the Lord of the Underworld,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Right.” Emma pauses for a moment. “Well, things are about to get even more complicated. Sort of. Getting you out of the Underworld requires a… a test.”

“Honestly, love, I'd be a bit suspicious if all it took to come back to life was waltzing out of the right doorway,” he says. The corners of her mouth tip up in a smile and she snorts, bumping him lightly with her hip. “What do you need me to do?”

“It’s not just you, it’s both of us. It’s a test of faith.” She points ahead of them. “See that path, right along the shore?” He follows the line of her hand, nodding as his gaze falls on the small footpath running parallel to the river. “That’s how we’re getting out of here.”

“I’m assuming this is not as easy as strolling along hand in hand,” he says dryly. In the oppressive near-shadow of the Underworld, with the ominous swirl of the Styx alongside it, the path is nearly invisible; he doubts he would have noticed it if Emma had not called his attention to it.

“Not quite.” She runs her free hand through her hair, tugging at the ends anxiously. “I have to go first, and you have to follow behind me- no looking back.”

“Just like when you found me.”

“Exactly. Hades didn’t create it, but since it’s part of his realm, it has to bend to his magic.” A muscle jumps in her cheek as she grits her teeth. “His way of keeping people here. It’s easy to get lost if you can’t look back at where you’ve been before.”

He squeezes her hand. “This test sounds simple enough.”

“In theory, yeah,” she agrees, “in practice, not so much.” Swaying forward, she wraps her fingers around his hook, her gaze intent on his. “This isn't a very _friendly_ place, especially if you're attempting to leave. It’s going to try to trick us.”

“Aye, but that’s where they’ve underestimated us,” he says, bending to brush a kiss against her forehead, “because if there’s one thing I believe in- one thing I know I can trust- it’s you, Emma Swan.”

“How _inspiring_ ,” drawls a voice from a few feet away. They both look over to see Hades smirking at them, leaning against thin air with exaggerated nonchalance. “How _sweet_. It’s as easy as that, is it, Captain?”

Emma steps in front of Killian in one smooth movement. “We’ve already been through this, Hades. The price has been paid.”

“Oh, certainly, certainly.” He raises an eyebrow, checking his pocket watch before making it vanish in a puff of smoke. “And I allowed the rest of your motley crew to depart, didn’t I? But you have one of _my_ souls, Miss Swan, and I can’t allow you to walk out with the merchandise.”

“The price has been _paid_ ,” she repeats, light beginning to pool in the palms of her hands.

“You tricked my wife into eating the seeds,” Hades agrees. “And for that, I granted you safe conduct.” He ignores Emma’s derisive snort, examining his fingernails. “It wasn’t a flat fee for everything you want.”

“I didn’t say that I only paid you,” Emma points out. Hades looks up sharply and she laughs, low and cold. “You aren’t the only one with power down here.”

“The Fates,” Hades hisses, and Emma laughs even harder. “What could you possibly have that they would want?”

“That’s for me to know.” She presses her wrists together, the light in her palms growing brighter, and takes a small step forward.

Hades licks the tip of his finger, holding it up in the air, and scowls. “Fine.” He redirects his gaze to Killian, baring his teeth in a grotesque smile. “I’ll particularly enjoy adding you back to my collection, loverboy.” With a loud crack and a burst of flames, he vanishes from sight.

“You traded something to the Fates?” Killian asks at once.

“Nothing I couldn’t afford to give them.” She whips back around, eyes slightly wild. “We need to go, before he comes back to make it more difficult.”

“What did you trade?”

Reaching for his hand, she doesn’t respond immediately, the faint buzz of power in the air sending chills across Killian’s skin. He wants to push- _needs_ to know that she hasn’t done something to herself, to her life, to get this chance- but holds back, rubbing circles across her skin with his thumb.

“A memory,” she says at last. “They asked for one happy memory with you, in return for the chance to bring you home. I think they’re old romantics at heart.” Meeting his gaze almost cautiously, her lips quirk in a faint smile, and he’s torn between _gods, what have you done_ and _gods, I love this woman_.

He quells the desire to ask which memory, instead pulling her in to press a brief kiss to the crown of her head. “With any luck, we’ll have more than enough of those to make up for it, love.”

“Exactly,” she says. “I’ll start first, like I said, and you’ll follow after me. The path itself should be pretty straightforward, but there will be all sorts of distractions trying to trick us into turning around.”

“I shall continue not looking back,” he promises. “You’ll be safe, on this path?”

“As safe as it’s possible to be as a mortal crossing the borders of the living and the dead,” she says cheerfully. “It’s slightly less dangerous than the place we’re standing right now, I think.”

He finds this less reassuring than she does. “Onwards and upwards, then, love.”

Emma nods, and he pulls her closer, crushing her to his chest as he bends to kiss her. Letting go of her hand, he tangles his fingers in her hair, relishing the low moan he draws from her throat. He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, wrapped tightly around each other, but at last they draw apart, foreheads pressed together.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she says, her hands tight on the lapels of his jacket even as she takes a tiny step back. Reluctantly, she releases her grip, squaring her shoulders as she turns to the challenge at hand. Inhaling deeply, she steps onto the path.

And promptly vanishes.

Killian follows at once, walking onto the trail without hesitation. The next instant, everything around him shifts, the trees and sky and river blinking out of existence like little more than a dream. High stone walls rise around him, unmarked and endless, arching up into darkness. Silence presses in on him, and though he can see for what seems like miles ahead, there’s no sign of Emma anywhere.

“Run out of ideas, then?” he says under his breath, barely breaking stride. “Finished the tunnels and couldn’t come up with anything better?”

He’s barely gone fifty feet (he thinks- he’s better at measuring out space than most, but the vastness and the lack of any defining markers makes moving through this space feel like he’s walking in place) when he hears footsteps.

“Killian?” Emma’s voice echoes from behind him. “Killian, wait, I think something’s gone wrong, I shouldn’t be able to see you yet.” He pauses for a moment, and she calls again. “Come back to the entrance, we’ll figure something out.”

 _Don’t turn around._ The memory of Emma’s face when she’d found him winds through his head, cutting through the cries. _Whatever happens- whatever you hear- don’t stop, and don’t look back._

“Killian!”

He ignores her, plunging forward until silence buzzes in his ears again.

A figure appears on the path ahead, leaning casually against the rock wall. It turns as he approaches, brushing nonexistent dust from its coat, and his heart catches in his chest as Liam swims into view. He grins down at Killian, young and healthy as the day he died.

“Little brother!” he crows, and it hurts, to hear what he sounds like after all these years, when the memory of his voice faded so long ago. “Thought I might’ve missed you on your way out.”

“Liam,” Killian whispers, unable to tear his eyes from his brother’s face.

“I met your Lady Emma as she passed by.” Liam’s smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and he chuckles. “Quite the firecracker you’ve got there.”

“You’re not real,” Killian says slowly. “This is all just another trick.”

“I’m as real as you are, brother.” Reaching into his pocket, Liam pulls out a small flask and flips it open. “Have a drink with me, won’t you? We’ll toast to your lady love.”

And that’s...wrong, it’s wrong, and now Killian can see where Liam’s edges are blurred, as if he’s fading slightly into the background. His hands look distorted, fingers blending with the flask, and his stance is too predatory. The smile is right, but the warmth behind his eyes is missing. Reaching out, he tries to grasp Liam by the shoulder, but his hand passes through little more than air.

“I’ll get you yet, Captain,” the thing that looks like Liam hisses, his face contorting as he fades from view.

Killian starts to run.

He ignores the gentle hum of his mother’s voice, the sea shanties of his childhood curling around him and calling him back; he pays no heed to the figure of his father, who runs alongside him for a time, begging for mercy. The path hurls Emma’s voice at him again and again, filling the sound with anguish, with pain, with anger, with loss, with longing, with every emotion that should bring him to his knees.

(And it hurts, but he thinks privately that none of it is worse than watching the Darkness take her, that night in Storybrooke- let the Underworld do what it will, but they’ve already survived far worse.)

The tunnel floor starts to rise bit by bit, and he knows he must be nearing the exit. He can see the high arch of the walls beginning to slope lower, the ceiling slowly coming into view, when he notices the woman sitting calmly in the middle of the path ahead. She climbs to her feet, shaking out her dark hair as she meets his gaze with a challenging smile.

_Milah._

“Killian,” she says softly, and he stops several feet from her. She’s in her full pirate regalia, the leathers and jewels she’d loved so much, the custom pieces he’d stolen and bartered for and dug out of rotting treasure chests. “Finally.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t think he can pull the words out through the hard knot in his chest. She’s standing here, in front of him, looking like she’d never died, looking like the Crocodile had never tried to hurt her, looking _at him_ the way she always did when she had a surprise waiting for him. Gods, but she’s more beautiful than he’d remembered.

(Time is a cruel mistress, especially to a man who has escaped her clutches for centuries.)

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Milah says. She steps forward slowly, like he’s a skittish animal. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.”

“Milah,” he croaks.

“I’m here,” she breathes. “Stay a while. You’ve been running for such a long, long time.”

“Yes.” A faint buzzing fills his ears.

She’s looking up at him, half-smiling, and her eyes are so, so blue. “We’ve both waited for so long.”

“Yes.” He vaguely realizes that he can’t remember how he got here, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it.

“I can help you rest, my love,” Milah whispers. Her hand comes up, hovering near his cheek, not quite touching him. “Trust me.”

_You have to trust me._

He blinks, shaking his head as the voice breaks through the haze.

_Emma._

“No.” It takes every bit of his self-control to step out of her reach, but he manages it. “This isn’t- you’re not really here.”

“You’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?” she says placidly. As he watches, blood drips from the corner of her eye, leaving a dark streak across her pale cheek. “Not here. Not Lost.” Another drop slides from the edge of her mouth. “After all those years, you’re willing to leave me here.”

“No,” he says again, ignoring the way his stomach twists with every word she speaks.

“You let me die,” Milah continues, “and now you’re leaving me to rot.”

“You aren’t Milah.”

Milah laughs, but the sound is harsh and unforgiving, utterly absent of warmth. “Are you certain of that, Killian Jones? Are you _quite_ certain that I will not be there, tortured in the tunnels, even as you try to forget me? What were your vows worth, to avenge me, to remember me, to love me, if you’re willing to risk leaving me with _Hades_?”

Something in her face flickers, shifting for the briefest moment, and Killian catches sight of Hades’ twisted scowl.

“No need to talk about yourself like that, Hades,” Killian says, forcing levity into his tone as he takes another step away. “I’d say you should work on your self-esteem a bit, mate.”

The illusion shatters all at once. Milah vanishes, flying apart in coils of smoke; Hades, draped in black, stands in her place.  “You’re not leaving, Captain,” he snarls, diving for Killian’s legs. Killian dodges, vaulting over him, and takes off down the tunnel. “Get back here!”

He ignores the shouts from behind him, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead even as a shrill scream pierces the air. A faint circle of light appears ahead of him and he puts on another burst of speed, diving through it, and he’s flying through the air, falling-

-onto grass.

Swearing under his breath, he sits up, rubbing his shoulder where it smacked into an unfortunately placed rock. He can hear the faint sound of the town clock chiming out the hour, ringing out over the gentle lapping of waves against the lakeshore. The sun is just beginning to rise, dusting the world in a golden haze, and a faint breeze stirs the treetops.

“Killian?”

He’s on his feet in an instant, turning to see Emma sprinting towards him. She hurls herself into his arms, nearly sending them both toppling as she drops kisses along the line of his cheek. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he presses the curve of his hook against her spine, tugging her closer as he attempts to press his lips to every bit of her that he can reach.

“You made it,” she gasps, burying her face in his neck. “You’re here, you did it-”

“Did you ever doubt I would?” He feels her smile against his skin, _here_ and _alive_ and _safe_ , and can’t resist the urge to take a small step away, just far enough to cradle her face in his hand. For a long moment, they simply look, drinking each other in with an intensity that makes the rest of the world fade away. “You’re a bloody hero, Swan,” he says softly, bending to kiss her.

And it’s like the time she’d slammed his heart back into his chest- the same rush of feeling sweeping from his lips through the rest of his body, the overwhelming urge to fall into her and never climb out, to live out his days in a world of Emma Swan.

“Wow,” she breathes, looking slightly dazed, and he chuckles. “That was-”

“ _Not_ a one time thing,” he says firmly, leaning down to kiss the laugh that bubbles across her lips.

The sun is well and truly risen in a brilliantly blue sky when they finally manage to tear themselves apart and head into town, hands clasped. Grumpy catches sight of them before they hit Main Street and takes off, shouting the news of their arrival at the top of his voice, and they arrive at Granny’s to see most of the town peering through the windows at them. Henry comes flying through the door, wrapping both of them in an enormous hug.

“You’re both safe?” he asks, looking from one to the other. “No magical loopholes? No enemies you accidentally brought back to Storybrooke? No weird rules about only being allowed to visit during certain seasons?”

“Yes, no, no, and no,” Emma says, hugging him tightly. “We’re home for good, kid.”

Henry raises an eyebrow at Killian. “You’re not evil anymore? And you’re staying?”

“Aye, lad.” Killian smiles and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “If your mother will have me, you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Good,” says Henry. Grinning, he hugs both of them for another moment, then wriggles his way to freedom. “Come on, Grandma and Grandpa are waiting. I’m pretty sure Granny’s going to lock them up if Grandpa doesn’t stop trying to demonstrate his perfect pancake recipe.”

“Right behind you,” Emma says, reaching out to ruffle his hair fondly. Turning to Killian, she pulls him down for a quick kiss, her lips warm against his. “Ready?”

"For anything, if I'm by your side," he says. "Lead on, Swan."

They walk into the diner hand in hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to stay updated on my writing (or join the fun of constant CS blogging), please feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://in-each-place-and-forever.tumblr.com) and/or my [writing tumblr](http://distinct-elements-of-speech.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I know this is SO COMPLETELY LATE, but I originally thought I'd lost this chapter when my computer died...turns out, I had actually saved it to Google Docs! All hail Google Docs. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to stay updated on my writing (or join the fun of constant CS blogging), please feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://in-each-place-and-forever.tumblr.com/) and/or my [writing tumblr](http://distinct-elements-of-speech.tumblr.com/).


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